Jane Austen and werewolves
by HasEveryPenNameBeenTaken
Summary: Jane Austen heroes and heroines are playing Mafia/Werewolves, the roleplay party game. Complete, to everyone's relief.
1. The game

**Disclaimer: I don't know how I came up with this silly idea. Please don't ask me.**

**Disclaimer 2: You know the party game where the werewolves (mafiosi/witches/aliens) are trying to kill the townspeople, and the townspeople are trying to lynch the werewolves? Well, Jane Austen heroes and heroines are playing it.**

**Disclaimer 3: I own nothing.**

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><p>In this chapter I explain the game. If you already know the game you don't need to read chapter one. You can go to chapter two (roles and participants) or to chapter three (the actual story begins).<p>

If you don't completely understand the explanation at first, don't worry- nobody does. It gets clearer in the next chapters.

Mafia is a party game originally created by some Russian dude (David Davidoff in 1986) who was working at the Psychology Department of Moscow. His students were the first players. The game models a battle between an informed minority and an uninformed majority.

In later versions, the mafiosi were substituted by werewolves, because werewolves are cool (insert eyeroll at your choice).

The game is a roleplay murder mystery. In this game there will be a narrator, two werewolves and ten villagers. Before the game, the narrator informs you of your role IN SECRET. That is done via PM or mail in online games, or with cards/notes in real life. The PM should read somewhat like this:

"You are a Villager. You have no special powers and no prior knowledge of other people's roles. Your only weapons are your vote and your brains, so use them wisely. You must indentify and lynch the werewolves. You win with the town."

Or:

"You are a Werewolf. Your werewolf-partner is player X. You two have decided to take over the village and destroy its population. You can kill one player each night. Send the narrator a PM with your night choice/silenlty point to the intended victim (in real life games). You win with the werewolves when everybody else has been killed."

The game is separated in two phases, day and night.

During the night, the werewolves discuss via PM (or communicate with gestures in real life) and decide whom they will kill. In real life games, normal villagers keep their eyes shut during night. The next day, the player chosen by the werewolves is dead.

DEAD PEOPLE CAN'T TALK.

During **day** phase, the villagers (and the werewolves, who pretend to be villagers) discuss. They try to understand who the werewolves are. Each villager votes for the person s/he thinks is the werewolf. The person who gets the most votes gets lynched and thrown out of the game (i.e. dies). You can also vote for a no-lynch (but that is rarely if ever done).

A player's role is revealed at death. (Usually. In this game roles will be revealed.)

The town wins if they successfully lynch the werewolves.

The werewolves win if they kill all the townspeople. In some variants, if the number of the townspeople is equal to the number of the werewolves, it's an automatic win for the werewolves.

Some townspeople have special abilities. This way they can help the town more or just make things more complicated.

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><p><strong>AN: Yeah, whatever.**

**In the next chapter, I'm going to announce the narrator, the players, and the special roles. There will be twelve players (the main couple from each novel). Everybody, please review!**


	2. The roles

Chapter 2

Roles and participants

**Narrator: Me.** (Hello…)

We asked Jane Austen to do it, but she didn't want to. She said she really couldn't be involved in a project of this sort. I believe I caught the words "dorkish"and "lame".

**Players (alphabetically):**

Bennet, Elizabeth

Bertram, Edmund

Darcy, Fitzwilliam

Dashwood, Elinor

Elliot, Anne

Ferrars, Edward

Knightley, George

Morland, Catherine

Price, Fanny

Tilney, Henry

Wentworth, Frederick

Woodhouse, Emma

**The roles**

-Werewolves: the bad guys. There's two of them.

-The Seer: the Seer is a pretty cool guy (or girl), who can check the role of one player each night (by asking the narrator). In online games, a typical PM dialogue is this: "What is the role of player X?" The narrator replies via PM "Player X is a villager" or "player X is a werewolf" (or whatever power role player X might have). This way, the Seer can spot werewolves, and this makes him/her a very powerful ally to the town.

-Guardian Angel: The Guardian is the protector of the village. Each night, the Guardian protects one player. PM example: "I want to protect player Y". If the Werewolves attack this player on the same night (PM: "we want to night-kill player Y"), the player does not die. If the town finds out who the Seer is, the Guardian usually protects the Seer.

-Cupid: The Cupid picks two players who become a couple, The Lovers. This happens before the game by telling the narrator. (PM: "I am the Cupid, I have decided to make players Y and Z the lovers.") If a lover gets killed or lynched, the other dies of a broken heart. This can complicate things if one of the lovers is a werewolf. Prepare for backstabbling and drama.

-The Madman. The Madman thinks he has a special role, but basically he's just mad. For example, he might receive a PM telling him he is the Seer. However, when he tries to check roles at night, every player he checks will appear as werewolf.

-Villagers: The rest of the lot. They have no special powers, but they have their brains! … Yeah, they're doomed.

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><p><strong>AN: In chapter 3, the game begins. (Dun, dun, dun.)**

**Also, I know there are characters from all six novels, but there is no such section. **


	3. The hunt begins

**Disclaimer: **

**(Just for once, I would like to put this creepy disclaimer that I **_**am **_**Jane Austen. See how that would make people jump.)**

**Boring ordinary disclaimer, I am not Jane Austen, blah blah blah.**

**Disclaimer 2: Chapter 3. The game begins. Enjoy (hopefully).**

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><p>Chapter 3<p>

It _should_ be a dark and stormy night. But it wasn't. It was a peaceful sunny day. And that was wrong. Because, of the twelve people who were gathered in silence around the long oval table in the middle of the room, two were murderers. The situation was very dramatic, and, in Catherine Morland's opinion, the good weather was completely off.

Suddenly, a tall man spoke.

-Dear friends… he said.

-Mr Knightley, you hardly know anyone in the room!

-My dear Emma, I am only trying to be polite. Besides, we have already introduced ourselves.

-Yes, but that is all we have done. And really, where is the hostess? Why should we be left to introduce ourselves? Such a thing would never be tolerated at Hartfield.

-My dear Emma, much as it may surprise you, we are not at Hartfield. There are other places in the world, you know. Our situation is very dangerous, and I am only trying to…

-Take advantage of it.

-What?

-Come on. You're enjoying it.

-I most definitely am not! What an absurd insinuation.

-Come, Mr Knightley, it gives you an opportunity to lead. We both know you love to assume such roles.

-Said the pot to the kettle!

-Excuse me.

The interruption came from another tall man in the other and of the table.

-I do not mean to interrupt your arguing- I am sure you are both enjoying it very much…

(They both looked extremely indigant.)

-… But I believe we had better devote ourselves to serious reflection.

-Of course, said another girl with mock solemnity. We must reflect seriously, and then we must give our conclusions in written form within the course of a week.

-Miss Bennet likes to misunderstand me. But the fact remains that this is a life and death situation-

- No, Mr Darcy, this is a _game_.

The man blinked.

-Well, we are supposed to roleplay.

- Oh, yes! Certainly. We are also supposed to have an expression as if we were going to our own funerals.

- I hope Miss Bennet will do me the justice to acknowledge that since we are playing a game we are must follow the rules.

-Of course we must follow the rules. Very commendable. You are absolutely right. You are only forgetting a small detail of no consequence at all.

-What is that, may I ask?

-Games are supposed to be fun.

-I like this game, interfered another lady, before Mr Darcy could answer. I like the werewolves.

Of course you like the werewolves, murmured the young man by her side. You like Mrs Randcliffe's bandits. You like the Mafia. You like the werewolves. And if there was a big bloody zombie, set out to destroy life and civilization, you would like it most of all.

That was when the hostess came in.

Her appearance was most extraordinary. She was most definitely female, and yet she was wearing pants- yes, pants. They were not even real pants. They were made of some kind of tough blue fabric. On the upper part of her body she was wearing a baggy thing with an odd symbol. The clergymen hoped she was not a member of some sort of heresy. She looked wild, positively wild. She had actually let her hair down. She must be absolutely desperate for a husband. Yet she did not look older than the ladies present. Her shoes were multicolored and glowing, and positively unfeminine.

She greeted them all, and proceeded to sit in the empty chair in the head of the table. The ladies exchanged looks, and then Emma started.

My dear young lady, she said, what on Earth are you wearing?

-What? Oh, that. It is nothing. It is only the fashion in 2011.

-Well, the fashion in 2011 looks awful.

-And what is that symbol on your… well… upper clothing? Nothing blasphemous, I hope.

-What? Oh, it's just the firm. Can we get started now? We're kinda late.

-Well, tell that to yourself. Narrator, my foot.

The girl ignored this, and started immediately.

**The time is now DAY.**

Everything looks normal in the peaceful little village of Austenland. The sun is shining, the birds are singing and the sky is blue. Who would think that there are two heinous criminals amongst the happy villagers? And yet, it is true. The villagers gather together and talk excitedly, wondering what they are supposed to do…

The Narrator stopped. There was a short silence.

-What _are_ we supposed to do? Henry Tilney finally asked.

-Random Voting Phase.

-Beg your pardon?

-You start voting each other randomly.

-What, just like that?

-Yes. Next round is when you start gathering clues.

-That sounds fun. I vote for Mr Ferrars because he stepped on my foot.

-Sorry about that. Also, I counter-vote Mr Tilney.

-I also vote for Mr Ferrars, Edmund said, for stepping on a fellow clergyman's foot.

-I vote for Mr Darcy, because he looks grumpy.

I vote for Mr Ferrars, because I was called grumpy and I have to take it on someone.

-Well, take it on Miss Bennet, who voted for you!

-I can't, she's a lady.

-I vote for Mr Darcy, Elinor Dashwood said. His vote was completely random.

-I vote for Miss Dashwood, Catherine said, because random voting is exactly what we are supposed to do.

-I vote for Miss Elliot, Frederick Wentworth said, resentfully, because she hasn't said anything since the beginning of the game.

-I vote for you, my friend, Mr Knightley said. You hadn't said anything, either.

-I vote for Miss Elliot, even though I like her, in order to get on Mr Knightley's nerves. (That was Emma, of course.)

-I counter-vote Miss Woodhouse, for the moment.

Everybody turned to Fanny.

-Oh, no, she said, panicked. Don't ask me to vote. I'm not sure I can do it. There is something so liberal about it.

-But you have to vote for someone, Miss Price, Lizzy said encouragingly.

After a lot of arguing, Elinor suggested a sensible solution:

-You could vote for someone who has no votes. This way, the person would be in no danger of a lynch because of you.

-Well… Fanny was still hesitant.

-You could vote for me, Lizzy offered.

-Are you sure you don't mind?

-Yes, of course.

After an exchange of compliments, Fanny voted for Lizzy, and the Narrator wrote down the votes. Mr Ferrars had the most votes, so he was called to defend himself.

He stood up and said:

-Fellow players, ladies and gentlemen. I hereby declare I am totally innocent. I have mainly been accused because I stepped on someone's foot, which was completely accidental, and I have also served as a scapegoat for another person's vote. I am only a villager, and if you lynch me you will make a terrible mistake. And… er… that's all. Thank you.

He sat down again.

-That's it? Henry said in disbelief. That's your defense?

-Um… yes.

-No fancy words? No appeal to emotion?

-I… er… no.

-He is innocent! Elinor declared, rather too dramatically for her habits. It's just… he is no orator.

-Will anyone change his vote? The Narrator asked.

-For this speech? No, Darcy said.

No one else spoke.

-Well, if no one will change their vote, I regret to say, Mr Ferrars, that you will be hanged. Now for the narration.

The mob pushed the convict towards the ominous rope. They were whispering as he passed, or laughing cruelly at his fate. He was made to stand in a chair and his head was put in the rope. Everyone was holding their breath. Now, after his death, the murderer would take his true, horrible form; the form of a werewolf. The chair was kicked away, the body struggled and squirmed; the mob looked up, half expecting, half-fearing the transformation.

The body stopped squirming. A gasp of horror ran through the crowd. The body lay on one side, lifeless and numb, and just as human as it was before.

**Edward was a VILLAGER!**

The Narrator made a pause here. Almost everyone looked embarrassed.

-Dude, you were a villager? Edmund asked.

-Of course I was a villager, Edward said, sulking. I was the most villager-looking person you could possibly see. Really, why you picked me to lynch is beyond me.

-I would like to remind everyone, the Narrator said, that dead people don't tell tales.

-I can't tell tales, Edward said. I have no idea who the murderers are. But I see your point.

And from then on, he never spoke again, except to make the occasional "bah!" comment.

**The time is now NIGHT.**

It was a dark and stormy night (yes, really). Most villagers had an uneasy sleep. Two murderous shadows were sliding through the streets, licking their lips, wondering whom to kill. The silent figure of the Guardian was patrolling the village, trying to protect. The Seer alone was observing and meditating, seeking to find out the truth in the midst of all this deception.

Finally, everyone went home, the villagers woke up, the sun rose again, and a new day began in the little village of Austenland.

**The time is now DAY.**

The villagers were yawning and rubbing their eyes. Suddenly, they stopped. They looked at one another with an awful realization. An unbearable silence fell on the room; and as the silence was growing more and more evident, the tension was growing thicker and thicker, and the question that nobody dared to ask demanded an answer again and again.

Finally, Darcy spoke.

-Tell us, Narrator, he asked. Who of us is dead?

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><p><strong>AN: To be continued. ;-)**


	4. A nightkill and a lynch

Elinor Dashwood's house was awfully silent that morning. The villagers surrounded it and knocked politely for half an hour. After that, they reluctantly agreed that ceremony must be overlooked, therefore they blast the door open. Elinor's cold body lay there pale and still, soaked in a black lake of her own blood. Frederick, who was a navy veteran (which as the closest thing they had to an army veteran) carefully examined the body. Elinor had been shot, axe-hit, and stabbed in the back. It was the worst case of suicide they'd ever seen.

**Elinor was night-killed.**

**Elinor was a Villager.**

A dreadful silence followed the narration. Everyone looked at each other suspiciously.

-Who committed this atrocity?

-I don't know, but it's very interesting. First, Mr. Ferrars dies and then, Miss Dashwood, the only person to defend him, is found dead.

-Wow, that's real deep. What do you get from that?

-Er… nothing. It doesn't make any sense.

-I have another question, Emma said. Who is the Seer?

-My dear Emma-

-Well, right now, he seems our only way to draw some useful conclusions.

-How can you be so sure the Seer is a "he"? Lizzy asked. Immediately, she bit her lip. Mr. Knightley examined her closely, and so did another gentleman and a couple of ladies.

-He or she, apparently the person does not wish to be revealed yet, Mr. Knightley said. And so, Emma, do leave the poor man- or woman- alone.

-What do you think of the murder, Miss Bennet? asked an enthusiastic Miss Morland, who was apparently enjoying the situation.

- I stand by my suspicions of Mr. Darcy, Lizzy replied. I confess, however, that my case is not very strong. He certainly helped to lynch an innocent last night, but others participated also, and he could only be a misguided townie. It is more a matter of intuition.

-Rather say prejudice, Darcy muttered.

-Darcy certainly looks like a werewolf, Tilney supplied. He is a tall, hairy fellow with canines.

-By that logic, we could just as well get rid of you. You voted for Ferrars as well, and you certainly have canines.

-Let us all calm down, Mr. Knightey suggested. Some of our players have not even spoken yet. It's a shame Miss Dashwood was lynched, because she looked like a level-headed young lady-

Emma snorted.

-What is it? he whispered.

Emma made him a long reply, the prevalent phrase of which was "reminds me of Jane Fairfax".

-A level-headed young lady, I say, Mr. Knightley continued quickly, ignoring Emma as well as he could. Her insight will be missed. The rest of you, what do you think of the matter? Miss Price?

- I hardly know, Fanny replied timidly. I think I would like to hear the Seer's opinion too.

- Perhaps the Seer is afraid to identify himself.

-It's a shame, Frederick said. It would be very convenient.

-Convenient for the werewolves, Mr. Knightley replied. They could target him all the more easily.

Everyone looked at Frederick suspiciously.

He looked back at them

-I meant convenient for the town, he explained. The Seer could give us information.

-He uses "us", Edmund said. Classic scumtell.

-And it's pretty obvious the Seer has not found useful information, otherwise he would have spoken, Henry added.

-"He" again, Lizzy muttered to herself.

- And the way you worded it, it sounded like you said it's a shame the Seer is afraid , even though he may have a very good reason to be cautious.

-What a nonsensical piece of word cruft! You people are really making a case out of nothing.

- What an eloquent comeback. That really invalidates all our arguments!

- In case you have forgotten, there is a Guardian. If we knew who the Seer was, don't you think the Guardian would protect him from night-kills?

-He has a point, Anne said.

- The scum still have an advantage if they know the Seer, and you could always finish off the Guardian later!

-But I don't even know who the Guardian is!

-A-ha! So you admit-

- I admit nothing!

- Tilney- Bertram- I really think you are making a case out of nothing, Darcy interfered. It's pretty reasonable to want to know the Seer.

- I am not listening to you, my fellow, Henry replied. I have set you down as the obvious scum partner.

- Well, what is your idea, Darcy? Edmund asked.

- Lynch Tilney, he's been pestering me ever since the game began.

- Miss Bennet has been pestering you too. Why not lynch her?

- I can't, I think she's a misguided townie rather than a werewolf.

- I am flattered, Mr. Darcy. However, seeing that my suspicions about you are shared, don't you think you might want to give us an explanation? Defend yourself, give us reasons to believe you are a townie. Prevent us from mislynching you.

- I see no reason to do any such thing. My character ought to speak for me.

- But when a person is of such an unsocial, taciturn disposition, a clear explanation of his character might help those of his acquaintance who are not mind readers.

- A clear explanation of my character. What do you want, a letter?

- Enough of that, if you please, Emma interfered. (She was distinctly heard to say something about "heated arguments on the table" and "would ever be permitted at Hartfield".) I think it's time t get to voting, don't you agree?

- Yes, you are absolutely right, Emma, said Mr. Knightley, looking grateful.

- I'm voting for Wentworth, Edmund said.

- Well, I'm voting for Mr Darcy, Lizzy said.

- What about you, Emma?

Emma thought a little, and said:

- I think I will vote for Mr. Darcy.

Pause.

-You, too? Why? Darcy asked, outraged.

- Well, it seems it will be a battle between you and Mr. Wentworth, and I am inclined to favor the more open character rather than the reserved one.

- Yes, of course, reserved people shall be lynched, Mr. Knightley said dryly.

- They are better at hiding themselves.

Anne cast another vote on Mr. Darcy. Things looked extremely bad for him. Then, to everybody's surprise, Henry Tilney told him:

- My dear sir, your reasoning is thin, your attitude is haughty, and your frown is frightful. However, I will temporarily vote for Wentworth, because of his extremely suspicious comment about convenience.

Catherine, who was always easily influenced by Henry, voted for Frederick, too.

-What do you vote, Darcy?

- Tilney. If Wentworth decides to lynch me, it's up to him.

- I'm not voting, Frederick said. I'm not suspicious of Darcy. In fact, I'm not suspicious of anyone. There doesn't seem to be a point in it.

- Mr. Knightley?

- I'm giving a cautious vote to Mr. Tilney. He seems to have been trying to stir up controversy.

- Two votes for Tilney. Still, it's obviously a decision between Darcy and Wentworth, right?

- Let me see… yes. We have a tie between Darcy and Wentworth, Edmund announced.

- But I think Miss Price has not voted yet?

Everybody looked at Fanny, who was absolutely terrified.

- Oh, no, she started stammering. No, please, you must excuse me, I-

- Hammer! Hammer! Hammer!

- But I-

- Hammer! Hammer! Hammer!

- I really am the most unfit possible person in the whole world-

- HAMMER! HAMMER! HAMMER!

- ALRIGHT!

There was silence.

-I… am not… particularly inclined… to suspect… either gentleman… and… to tell the truth…. I would much rather lose the game… than give any pain to my opponents. However, if I play to lose, I will give pain to my teammates, so I am afraid… I am rather stuck. To the point, I believe the werewolves generally try to keep a low profile, stir controversy and stay out of trouble… while Mr. Darcy appears to me the victim of circumstances… so I will vote for Mr. Wentworth… although I do apologize a thousand times, and I beg of him to believe that it is very much against my will.

Having said all that, she fainted. Anne took out the smelling salts.

**Narration:**

**The ladies and gentlemen of the quaint little village of Austenland were gathered in the drawing-room for a cup of tea. Everything was running smoothly, until Frederick Wentworth started acting suspiciously. He did not talk politics, and he refused to thumb the French. Later, he inexplicably refused a second cup of tea. When pressured, he explained that tea was in his opinion an insipid drink, and the nation that was so obsessed with it must be entirely consisted of grannies.**

**I think we can all guess how that ended.**

**Frederick was lynched.**

**Frederick was a Villager.**

**The time is now NIGHT.**


	5. The Town strikes back

**A/N: Receive****d PMs from people saying they didn't get the game. Updated explanatory chapters 1&2. Hope it's clearer. (Am still worried; Mafia is never quite clear until you've played it. Oh well.)**

**Enjoy new chapter, which is full of REVELATIONS. (Never mind the all caps. I'm childishly excited.)**

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><p>-What happened last night, Narrator?<p>

-It was a dark and stormy night. The werewolves approached their unsuspecting target. But suddenly, the Guardian stood before them! "Back off, murderers!" the Guardian cried. He (or she) drew his (or her) sword, which flashed into the darkness of the night. Terrified, the werewolves retreated. The stayed in their lair for the rest of the night.

**The Guardian's protection was successful.**

**There was no night-kill.**

Everyone was astonished.

-My giddy aunt!

-God save the Queen!

-One heck of a Guardian, right?

-I'm sorry. Your expression was not stereotypically British.

- Who cares? No night-kill on a correct guess, I mean how often does that happen? Our Guardian is a genius!

Someone smiled involuntarily upon hearing this. **The smile was noted.**

**-**Well, I'm feeling safer now, Edmund said. With such a smart Guardian to protect us, we the Town have a definite advantage! Now let's get down to business, to lynch these werewolves!

- Alright, Henry Tilney said. Don't be so overly enthusiastic. You will make us suspicious.

- Has anyone noticed how Mr Tilney throws suspicion to a different person every round? Emma said, slowly. I just realized.

To everyone's surprise, Lizzy did not jump in with an accusation of Mr Darcy.

-Are you feeling alright, Miss Bennet? he asked her with pointed civility.

-Perfectly alright, thank you, she replied in the same tone.

- I am very glad of it, Miss Bennet.

- Thank you, Mr Darcy. You are all politeness.

- I was only wondering at the lack of underhanded witty attacks.

- Then you are employing your time in a very different manner than I do. I was wondering about Miss Woodhouse's comment on Mr Tilney, and whether it has any validity.

There was an implied "and I would advise you to do the same", and Darcy caught it.

-Of course, he muttered. She had a point. Excuse me, he said to Emma. You were saying?

-Only that Mr Tilney changes his mind perhaps too often.

-Perhaps you are right, Emma, Mr Knightley said. I've noticed that too. He makes a lot of accusations, and the person he votes for usually gets lynched.

-That only means I'm influential.

-Yes, an influential werewolf.

-If you have to vote for someone so early, vote for Bertram.

-How so? Edmund asked.

-My dear fellow, last round you accused poor Wentworth of using "us" because you claimed it was a scum tell. But just now, you yourself used the phrase "we, the Town"! Seriously, how obvious can you be?

Fanny was so indigant she couldn't even speak.

-Perhaps too obvious, Anne suggested gently. What I mean is, would a werewolf really give himself away like that? The contradiction was too easy to spot.

-Yes, but, on the other hand, how do you explain it?

-I really thought it was a scum tell, Edmund said, distressed. That is, I thought the Mafia are often using expressions like "we" and "us" in order to mislead the townies. Of course, townies must also refer to themselves as Town, because… well, really, what else can they do? But I didn't think of that before.

-I'm not completely satisfied, Henry said.

-You haven't replied to our arguments, Darcy told him.

-My dear sir, your arguments are nonsense. What did you accuse me of? Changing my mind. We're in the early rounds, it's normal to be a little indecisive.

-Townies are usually more hesitant than you are, Mr Knightley said. They fear they are going to make a mistake.

-More nonsense. If a townie gets stuck with the wrong idea, they never let go.

-I'll grant him that, Mr Darcy said, unwillingly. Take Miss Bennet, for example: she is stuck with the wrong idea that I am a werewolf, and she will not let go.

-I am afraid you can not use that as proof, Mr Darcy, Anne told him, before Elizabeth could retort. For all we know, you could be a werewolf.

-It's true that townies can take up a wrong idea, Edmund said to Mr Tilney, but you seem to take up one wrong idea per round, and you are always extremely confident about them.

-Very true, Fanny said.

-I may have been unlucky in my guesses.

-Are we suspecting Mr Tilney? Catherine asked, her eyes wide.

-I'm afraid so, Miss Morland, Lizzy told her, smiling.

-Upon my word! That is very peculiar, but I am sure we have very good reasons for it.

-We do.

-We are not quite sure he is guilty, however, Anne clarified.

-There's one thing I can't understand, Catherine continued.

-What is that?

-Why did Mr Tilney vote for Mr Wentworth last round? Why did he consistently accuse Mr Darcy and then suddenly switch his vote to Mr Wentworth?

There was silence at this.

-What were his arguments? Emma asked.

Fanny, who had a very good memory, recited them.

-"My dear sir, your reasoning is thin, your attitude is haughty and your frown is frightful. However, I am going to temporarily vote for Mr Wentworth, because of his extremely suspicious comment about convenience." Something along these lines, I believe.

-I commend you, Miss Price, Mr Tilney told her. To remember that word by word…

Mr Knightley narrowed his eyes.

-Did you have a particular reason to memorize it, Miss Price?

Fanny blushed, and said "no".

-Fanny has an excellent memory, Edmund told him coldly. There is nothing more to it.

-Mr Bertram and Miss Price always stand up for each other, Catherine said, dreamily. I think it's nice of them. I don't think they've ever disagreed since the game began.

There was an awkward pause.

-They are cousins, Emma said. It's reasonable to stand up for each other.

-So, why didn't Tilney lynch Darcy last round? He could have.

-He said it was because of his comment…

-Nonsense. Wentworth had justified his comment.

-Easy to say now, after we've lynched him.

-How could we be so easily influenced?

-Again, why not lynch Darcy? It would have been the same to him.

-Isn't it obvious? Lizzy said.

Everybody looked at her.

-What is obvious?

-I believe we have found the werewolves.

Everybody was absolutely shocked.

-My dear Miss Bennet! Emma exclaimed. You do not believe that Mr Tilney and Mr Darcy… why, they have been attacking each other ever since the game began!

-And yet, I do believe it. Attacking your partner is a perfectly valid technique. It's called distancing, and it's done on purpose to mislead the other players. Mr Darcy and Mr Tilney have been hostile to each other for a good portion of the game; but what happens when Mr Darcy is actually in danger of a lynch, and Mr Tilney has the power to do it? He suddenly, and inexplicably, changes his vote to another candidate. I ask you, why?

Nobody answered her.

-I admit that the circumstances are against me, Mr Darcy said. Miss Bennet's theory is certainly plausible. I can not tell you why Mr Tilney changed his vote. However, I am just a townie. Disguise of every sort is my abhorrence; if I was scum, you would understand it immediately.

-You are scum, and we understand it immediately, Henry told him. Can I defend myself now?

-Please, do.

-First of all, don't you think that if I was a werewolf I would keep a lower profile?

-Maybe you have faith in your own abilities, Mr Knightley told him. Perhaps you –quite reasonably-thought you were smart enough to play the game the dangerous way.

-A polite way of telling me I'm vain and overconfident, Henry said with a half smile.

-Que s'excuse s'accuse, my friend. Is that all?

-No, there's also the charge that I changed my vote. Did anyone think of the simple explanation? I changed my vote exactly for the reason I claimed. I was more suspicious of Wentworth than of Darcy. He seemed really happy at the perspective to have the Seer lynched. I realize I got that wrong, but that was what I really felt at the moment. Mr Darcy is more reserved and difficult to decipher, so I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, which I now ask you to give me.

He looked at them hopefully. There was a short silence.

-Nah, I don't believe him, Edmund said. Let's lynch him!

-Yeah!

-Hammer him!

-Pummel him!

-Feed him to the beasts!

-But are we sure? Fanny said, beseechingly.

-Come on, Miss Price. Deception radiates from his body!

-But we would not want to lynch an innocent again, Fanny insisted. Perhaps we should examine other possibilities…

There was a massive uproar.

-No!

-Tilney!

-He's messing with our heads!

-He's telling jokes!

-He reads silly novels!

-_I _read silly novels, Darcy muttered.

-You do? Elizabeth asked, surprised.

-Alright, let's get to voting, Mr Knightley said. Personally, I think Tilney is our best chance, and I vote for him.

- It sounds like you are promoting him for a mayor.

-No, I-

-Never mind, I'm voting for him too.

-Me too!

-Count me four!

At last, everybody had voted for Mr Tilney, except for Anne Elliot, Catherine Morland, Lizzy, and Fanny. Anne was finally persuaded to vote for him, even though she considered it a bit of a risk. Lizzy declared he and Mr Darcy were both werewolves, and I was all the same to her who got lynched this round, as long as the other got lynched the next. She finally voted for Mr Tilney, seeing that the majority was on him. Catherine told him it was very bad of him to be a werewolf, but since it was only a game she didn't mind it so much, and she still liked him. However, she still had to vote for him, because of her inner sense of integrity. She hoped he understood. Finally, Fanny was extremely upset. She tried to persuade everybody to reconsider.

-We have lynched two innocents in a row, she said. We wouldn't want to make a mistake again. And, she added, why am I always the last to vote? It is very distressing to me, I can assure you. The writer must hate me.

-Miss Price, we are not changing our votes. We are quite determined. Will you vote or not?

Fanny sighed.

-Well, if you all wish it, I shall vote for Mr Tilney too.

Pause.

-What are you doing? Henry asked her.

-Succumbing to peer pressure, she told him.

-Well, I never.

-I'm dreadfully sorry, but you will be lynched anyway. What difference does it make?

And so it was decided that Henry Tilney would die.

**Narration**

It wasn't Henry Tilney's best day. The crowd didn't laugh at his jokes, and they demanded he returned all the novels he had borrowed. When he explained he had buried them all in a hole in his garden, they began to wonder what else he might have buried there; and, if he was capable of stealing, what else might he be capable of?

By twilight, a bloodthirsty crowd has surrounded Henry's home. They look at him menacingly, approach him threateningly, and politely request that he vacate the premises.

When he refuses, they tie him up and throw him into the sea. Emma is particularly excited about this, as it presents an opportunity to see the seaside at long last. They all watch apathetically as the last bubbles disappear. But wait; what is this silver thing rising on the surface of the water? Lo and behold, it's a fish! And what are these red drops in the neck of the fish? My giddy aunt, it's blood! Even when tied up, Henry managed to bite the innocent creature and take its life. That was his last heinous deed.

**Henry was lynched.**

**Henry was a Werewolf!**

There was a sort silence.

The Narrator said:

-Town, I give you congratulations. You have lynched one of these evil werewolves successfully.

The Town thanked her.

-However, there is still one werewolf between you. You must find that werewolf and lynch him or her before he or she night-kills you all!

The Town looked solemn.

-Oh, and I'll use "they" in my narration as a neutral pronoun. That's because I can't use either "he" or "she". That would betray the remaining werewolf's gender.

The Town agreed.

-You do realize it's not actually "they", right?

The Town understood.

-Alright then. **The time is now NIGHT.**

It was a dark and stormy night-

There was an interruption there.

-I'm sorry, could you stop using that "dark and stormy night" thing?

-Why?

-It's such an overused cliché, we're bored of it.

-It was first used in the Victorian era. From your perspective, it hasn't even started yet. How can you be bored of it?

-Just by then number of times you've used it in this single game…

-Fine, the Narrator said. She was heard muttering under her breath "stupid Town faction".

Then she continued:

-The night was as fair as night can be, and the weather was good. Is that better?

-Much better.

-OK. I'll tell you the results when the day comes.

A long interval of silence, and then the Narrator announced:

-**The time is now DAY.**

The werewolf was happy with the lack of darkness and storminess. Perfect visibility! Their target's house could be seen, crystal clear, in the horizon. They approached. A piercing scream shattered the stillness of the night. But it was too late. The werewolf feasted on their unlucky victim and ran away while the rest of the villagers were still fast asleep.

The next day, Anne Elliot's body was found right in the middle of the village. The werewolf had dragged her there for all to see. They had also left a note on her body: "This will happen to every fool who resists my domination". It was a macabre sight.

**Anne was night-killed.**

**Anne was the Guardian Angel! **


	6. The Lovers

**A/N: ****I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed. Reviews inspire me to write more. I had much fun writing this chapter, so I hope you will enjoy.**

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><p>-How very unfortunate it is for us to lose the Guardian Angel! Fanny said, evidently distressed.<p>

-Yes, Emma replied, very unfortunate.

Her voice was strange.

Fanny looked at her nervously.

-Why are you staring at me, Miss Woodhouse?

Instead of replying, Emma addressed herself to the rest of the room.

-My fellow players, let us not deceive ourselves any longer. Do we need to pretend? Do we need to look further? No; our investigation has come to an end; our hunt has finally been successful.

- What do you mean, Miss Woodhouse? Fanny asked, nervously.

- Don't you start Miss Woodhouse-ing me, you wolf!

A massive gasp ran through the room.

- I should have seen it from the very beginning, Emma continued. Your low profile, your persistent unwillingness to draw attention to yourself, everything bespoke an underhanded nature. Last round, you tried to save your partner, you pleaded for him; and then, when you saw you couldn't prevent us from lynching him, you backstabbed him.

- No! Fanny cried.

- What a load of nonsense! Edmund said. Fanny doesn't have an underhanded nature, she never likes to draw attention to herself! She's always been a bit of a creepmou- I mean, shy.

- My aunt Norris told me I should always be the lowest ad last, Fanny pleaded.

-Nothing is more misleading, Darcy said, than the appearance of humility. It is often an indirect boast, and sometimes an attempt to hide a wolf alignment.

- My thoughts exactly, Emma said. Lynch the creepy mouse!

-Now just wait a clock tick! Elizabeth cried. Just because _you_ are full of self-assurance, just because _your_ relatives think you nothing less than perfect, it doesn't mean nobody else has the right to be shy!

- What… I… you… Mr. Knightley, stop smirking! Miss Bennet, I will graciously overlook your comments, which happen to be…

- True, Mr. Knightley suggested.

- Irrelevant to the game, Emma continued. Kindly refrain from personal attacks-

- Don't you order me about-

- And explain your defense of Miss Price, which is extremely suspicious, in view of the fact that everyone else agrees with me!

- Oh, so Mr. Darcy is "everyone else" now?

- Let us all calm down. Mr. Knightley suggested. Miss Bennet, would you like to tell us your opinion on the matter? Do you believe Miss Price is innocent?

- I don't suspect her. A person has a right to be shy.

- Whom do you suspect?

- She suspects me, Darcy said with a bored expression. She always suspected me and she always will. She will not be satisfied until you lynch me, so just do it and have done with it.

- Yes, something like that, Elizabeth agreed.

- Darcy is innocent, Mr. Knightley said, very decidedly.

- How can you be sure, Mr. Knightley? Catherine Morland asked.

Mr. Knightley blushed.

-I am not, of course, sure. I merely observe and conclude, like every other townie. Mr. Darcy appears to me obvious Town by the way he behaved throughout the game.

Catherine looked at him admiringly.

-How very clever of you, Mr. Knightley!

-The problem with Miss Price, he continued, is that she was the only one who somewhat resisted Mr. Tilney's lynching last round. That naturally casts suspicion on her.

-For me, that is exactly what proves her innocent, Lizzy said. Since the majority was very decidedly on Mr. Tilney, his partner should realize there was nothing to be done. If I was a werewolf, I would never draw suspicion on myself by defending my partner in such an obvious way. Miss Price seemed like a concerned townie who was afraid of mislynching.

-Fanny is always afraid of making mistakes, Edmund said. It's in her character. She doesn't like to condemn people until she is absolutely sure.

-Then why did she vote for him at last? Darcy asked. It seemed like a desperate attempt to save herself by sacrificing him.

-Well, when we were acting a play at Mansfield, Fanny agreed to recite some lines, contrary to her judgment- and she would have, if my father hadn't arrived. The reasons were somewhat similar: everybody wanted her to, and the play would take place anyway.

-This seems to me a very weak excuse, Emma said. Miss Price has been behaving suspiciously ever since the beginning. Let me remind you that she voted for Miss Bennet for no reason at all on round one. Her shyness seems to be just an excuse; and I do believe we have been giving her a free pass just because she looks innocent.

-There is something in that, Darcy agreed. Impressions can be deceiving; Miss Price has the sort of sweet-looking, low-profile appearance that usually doesn't invoke suspicion in Mafia games, and we may have been too easy on her because of that.

-Impressions can work another way, too, Elizabeth said. Mr. Darcy, I have been suspecting you from the start and you have made no attempt to give me a reason to change my mind, except for some arbitrary praises on your own character. By your admission, you can not easily recommend yourself to strangers, but you should at least try.

-I see no reason to try. I see no reason to explain myself. I refuse to expose my private character to the world, merely because of some ill-founded accusations.

-In other words, you will not give yourself the trouble. You think it below you.

-You are determined to think ill of me.

-And you are determined to encourage me to do so.

-Do let us vote, Emma said, hastily. I think it's clear that the main candidates are Mr. Darcy and Miss Price?

-I think the only candidates are Mr. Darcy and Miss Price, Mr. Knightley said.

-I vote for Mr. Darcy, Lizzy said.

-Yes, _we get it_.

-Mr. Darcy?

-Miss Price, he said, looking steadily at Lizzy as he spoke. I believe she is the most suspicious player; I think Miss Woodhouse's arguments are convincing.

-I think my arguments are convincing, too, Emma said, rather unnecessarily. So I vote for Miss Price.

Under Emma's leadership, she, Darcy and Catherine voted for Fanny. Edmund gave them an angry philippic explaining why they were wrong, and voted for Darcy. Fanny voted for Darcy too, and with more warmth and confidence than what she had shown at the previous rounds.

-We have a tie, Lizzy announced.

-Mr. Knightley?

-I can not believe I am saying this, but I think Emma is right. Or rather, I am convinced that Darcy is innocent, while Miss Price seems the most suspicious right now. I am sorry, Miss Price.

Fanny gave a little cry, and collapsed in Edmund's arms.

Narration

The villagers talked between them, and decided that this Fanny Price girl was fishy, and she must be a wolf.

-That's right, we did, Emma said.

However, they concluded that Miss Price was so manipulative and malicious that she deserved extra punishment. Therefore, they decided not to kill her immediately.

-Huh?

Instead, they resolved to give her a sleeping potion-

-We resolved to do what?

-Don't interrupt me all the time, the Narrator said, annoyed. I'm trying to produce a dramatic effect here.

-Sorry, sorry. So you were saying?

They would give her a sleeping potion; one that made the sleeper's body mimic every symptom of death. Then, they would take her to her ancestors' vault, where they would leave her for two days. In the end of the second day, the potion's effect would end. Then the villagers would go to the graveyard with axes and knifes and slay the terrified maid just as she woke up from her enchanted sleep.

That sounded pretty good, only Mr. Bertram didn't know about it. He was away on business in his parish. However, he did hear about Fanny's supposed death from his servant, who really thought she had died. (The lower classes were not privy to the plan, because they were the lower classes.) Maddened, Edmund rushed back to Austenland and arrived just in time for the fatal night.

He went to the graveyard. After sending his page away, and threatening him with death in case of disobedience, Edmund went down. He found Fanny, who looked more beautiful than ever. Then, for some reason, he started reciting Shakespeare.

-O my love, my wife! he said.

That was extremely odd, because Miss Price was not his wife at all; she was his cousin. However, he went on.

-Death that hath sucked the honey of thy breath hath had no power yet upon thy beauty. Blah, blah, blah. Eyes, look your last. Arms, take your last embrace. And lips- o you, the doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss a dateless bargain to engrossing death.

At this point he skipped some lines because he was searching his pockets for something. At last, he found it, and brought it out; it was a small bottle, full of some pink liquid that didn't seem to be government- approved.

-Here's to my love! O true apothecary! Thy drugs are quick. Thus, with a kiss I die.

And he did. The next moment, Fanny woke up. She looked around and saw him. Unfortunately, she didn't have time for an equally long soliloquy, because she heard noises which meant people were approaching. She made the best of it, however. Edmund had no dagger, because he was a clergyman, so she took the dagger of some random ancestor who had been buried in armor, and kneeled in a very pathetic posture.

-Yea, noise? Then I'll be brief. Oh, happy dagger! This is thy sheath. There rust, and let me die.

Stabbing herself, she fell on Edmund's body.

Meanwhile, the villagers had reached the vault. They descended with bloodthirsty intentions. But a great surprise awaited them. They stood there, their mouths gaping, looking at the bodies.

**Fanny was lynched (kind of)!**

**Fanny was a Villager!**

**Edmund died of a broken heart!**

**Edmund was a Villager!**

**Fanny and Edmund were the Lovers!**

**The time is now NIGHT**.

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><p><strong>AN: ****I'm sorry I butchered Shakespeare, okay?**


	7. The fall of the mighty: part I

**A/N: Parts one and two were originally one chapter, but it turned our overly long, so I divided it. Also, what this story needs is a little bit more suspense. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and enjoy.**

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><p>It was a dark and stormy night. A raven was flying through the thunderstorm, hanging over the village like impending doom. They all knew it was their last chance to find the murderer. What unmerciful twist of fate had brought their lives to this? They had lost their Guardian Angel, a young couple of star-crossed lovers had met their untimely end; and even as they slept and dreamt, they knew that the chilly hand of them reached out to find them-<p>

-Oh, for the love of God, Narrator, stop being so melodramatic!

The Narrator looked around her with indignation.

-It's my story, and I can be as melodramatic as I like!

-We're in the story, too!

-Yes, but _I'm_ writing it!

-Yes, but _we_ have to hear all this blah blah blah every chapter….

-Aren't you supposed to do as I say?

-Oh, no. You are misinformed. People in a story are supposed to come to life, and sometimes take their own directions. Take it as a compliment on your characterization…

-But-

-And _shut up_.

The Narrator opened her mouth and closed it again.

-Fine, she said. Things happened, **the time is now DAY**.

-What things happened?

The Narrator mumbled something about people making up their own minds.

-This morning, Mr. Knightley was missing from the village council. Knowing there was a maniac on the loose, the alarmed villagers started searching for Mr. Knightley. Finally, his body was found on a small street. It wasn't a pretty sight. On examination, they saw something shiny coming out from one of his pockets. They approached cautiously, took it and examined it. It was a crystal ball.

**Mr. Knightley was night-killed!**

**Mr. Knightley was the Seer!**

At that moment, the door opened and the dead players came in. Apparently they had left unobserved at some point during the excitement. They were carrying a portable table with various refreshments.

-Hey, you'll never guess! Darcy cried. Knightley was night-killed, and he was the Seer!

-Look what we brought you, Elinor replied. Sandwiches!

Pause.

-Okay, you win, Darcy admitted.

-Mm, sandwiches! said Catherine, and she moved happily in their direction. Everyone was equally glad, and soon they were all gathered around the table.

Only Miss Bennet stayed away. She was standing alone, absorbed in her thoughts. It was such a difference from her usual lively, talkative manner that Mr. Darcy was quite worried and he decided to talk to her.

- Miss Bennet?

She started.

- Oh, Mr. Darcy. I didn't see you.

- Can I get something for you? A glass of wine, perhaps… you look very ill.

- No, thank you. There is nothing wrong with me; I am quite well. I am only struck with the force of a sudden realization.

- You were perhaps shocked at Mr. Knightley's death?

- We all were, cried Frederick. Seer, indeed. He certainly did agood job of hiding it.

- What were the results of your investigations, Knightley? Darcy asked him.

- Oh, no, the Narrator interfered. No, no, no, no, no. It's too late for that. Dead people can't talk. Mr. Knightley is dead, therefore he can't talk. Dead, corpse, worm food. Can't talk, hush, stop right there, zip it.

- My dear fellow, why on Earth didn't you speak while you were still alive?

- What could I do? If I told you I was the Seer, I would be the next one to die, since there was no Guardian to protect me. All I could do was give you subtle hints.

- What subtle hints did you give us, Mr. Knightley? Catherine asked him.

- Well, I can hardly tell you that now, can I, Miss Morland?

The living players felt so excited that they decided to get back to the game immediately. So they moved to their own table again, and they took the refreshments with them.

As Emma and Catherine were sitting, quietly enjoying a drink, they observed Mr. Darcy talking to Miss Bennet in an agitated and rather inarticulate manner. Her expression was enigmatic. The two of them then joined Emma and Catherine.

- What were you telling Miss Bennet, Mr. Darcy? Catherine asked him, sounding like a curious three-year-old.

Mr. Darcy blushed, and began to stammer.

- I… ahem… nothing of significance. That is, I… er… um… yes.

- An eloquent explanation to be sure, said Emma.

- Nothing relevant, Darcy clarified. Can we play now?

- Was it irrelevant to the game?

- Not exactly, but-

- If it was relevant to the game, we all ought to hear it.

- Well, if you insist. I merely told her that, um, it has been a pleasure playing with her and I hope we may repeat it someday. And- er- that even if we are in opposite teams-

Emma raised an eyebrow.

- … Which I have no reason to believe we are, I very much enjoyed our… ahem… interactions. And I also told her that, um, I don't suspect her.

- You told her what?

- You practically tried to take her on your side!

- Let go off him, said Lizzy. He's innocent.

- And it seems you have succeeded!

- No, he didn't. It's not what you think.

- Miss Bennet, your little 180 degrees turnaround is suspicious enough as it is.

- Oh, really?

- Yes, really.

- I'm glad Mr. Darcy and Miss Bennet stopped fighting, Catherine said dreamily. They are both such nice people, I always thought it was a shame they couldn't be friends.

- Miss Morland, you are irrelevant. We are talking about the fact that Mr. Darcy seeked to speak to Miss Bennet alone to tell her he does not suspect her!

- Yes, but he admitted the fact to you, said Lizzy. He was not anxious to hide it.

- Well, whom do you suspect, then?

- Well, since you ask, I think we should lynch you.

Emma practically choked with her dry martini.

- Me? You can't lynch me, I'm Miss Woodhouse of Hartfield!

- You could be Santa Claus for all I care. The same rules apply to you as to everyone else, and you have yet to explain your accusations against a confirmed innocent!

- Who is the confirmed innocent?

- Mr. Darcy.

- Why is Mr. Darcy a confirmed innocent?

- Yes, why am I a confirmed innocent? Darcy asked, confused.

- Because, explained Lizzy, Mr. Knightley said you were last round, and he was the Seer.

A pause.

- I forgot that! cried Emma. Why, Mr. Darcy forgot it himself!

- To be fair, said Darcy, maybe Mr. Knightley was taking a chance when he said that. Maybe he wasn't speaking as the Seer, but from a personal conviction. There is a possibility he had not checked me at all.

- Mr. Knightley seemed very sure, said Catherine. I think he must have checked you.

- Now that I think of it, Miss Woodhouse also behaved questionably last round. Her accusations against Miss Price were rather over the top.

- I suspected her! cried Emma.

- We suspected her too, but you practically threw her under a bus! said Darcy. How could you be so sure you were right? No one has that much confidence!

- _I_ do!

Mr. Knightley opened his mouth to say something. The Narrator glared at him, so he closed it again.

- In fact, said Lizzy, Miss Woodhouse has been very influential during the whole game. Given her self- assurance and her social status, everyone listened to her, and no one dared to criticize her. Imagine the power one has from such a position.

- I could not very well help being listened to! And as for Miss Price, I simply made a mistake. If I was a wolf, I would have known her to be innocent. So I wouldn't have accused her so pointedly, because I would be at the center of drama when she was revealed to _be_ innocent!

Everyone took a break to understand what she had said, and then Mr. Darcy replied intelligently:

- Or that's what you want us to think.

- I wouldn't rely on that! It leads to a stupid circular logic!

- Or that's what you want us to think, said Catherine with a smirk. Boy, this is fun.

- I think we have reached a consensus. Prepare to be lynched!

- That's ridiculous!

- Oh, is it? Your scheming is all over, you evil mastermind!

- I'm not an evil mastermind! I'm telling you, if you lynch me, you will regret it, you villagers!

An astonished silence followed.

_- You villagers_? Lizzy repeated incredulously.

- I don't think we need any more proof.

- No, wait! I didn't mean it like that!

- Sure you didn't.

- I have a special role!

- Sure you do.

- You have to believe me! I am Emma Woodhouse! I always have a special role! When I was little and played with the other children, I always took the best parts!

- What other children? There are no other people of your age in Highbury! More outrageous lies!

- I played with children from other classes!

- Really, Miss Woodhouse. You're just digging yourself deeper.

- I did! I used to play with the scullery maid! Emma admitted in tears. I had to play with someone! Don't lynch me- I will be friendly to Jane Fairfax! I will let Mrs. Elton have precedence in the next ball! I will visit Miss Bates four times a week!

- I don't believe that last one.

- I don't believe _any_ of that.

- Lies, lies, lies!

- You are caught in your own trickery, wolf!

A mob formed around Emma. Were these the same people who had supported her so fervently in the last round? Now they yelled for her blood, and demanded her downfall. Emma looked at the angry, triumphant faces around her, and knew she was condemned.


	8. The fall of the mighty: part II

**A/N: ****Guest appearance from a favorite of mine.**

**Also, thanks jhuikmn08 for reviewing.**

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><p>Narration<p>

Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever and rich, was sentenced to death.

However, the villagers respected Emma's ancestorship. She was a member of an old, respectable family of Highbury. So they decided that, in her case, they would follow an ancient custom, and bury her in armor, like the old aristocrats.

-Great, Emma said. I die, and I get the stupidest narration ever.

-Don't you want to be buried in armor, like the old aristocrats?

_-I'm a girl_.

-Oh. That's unfortunate. Nevertheless, it's a cool custom, and it's our last lynch. It would be a shame to let it go to waste. Now, let's see what we can do by way of armor…

The townspeople searched the whole village, but they realized they were dreadfully deficient in the military department. They couldn't find an armor. All they found was a little bow with arrows, so they gave that to Emma to hold as she was led to execution.

-Stupid and stupider, Emma said.

-You could be a little more appreciative. We're trying to do a nice thing for you. We're trying to figure the best way to execute you, and it's not polite of you to make all these dismissive comments and ruin everyone's fun.

-Oh, I'm sorry.

-Apology accepted.

As they handed Emma the bow and the arrows, they wondered how they could have been so blind. Unconsciously, they had always known. An underground, diabolical force had been pulling the strings of the game the entire time; and who better to do it than Emma Woodhouse? With a confirmed history of zany schemes and a Queen Bee status that gave her unbounded influence, she also had the necessary intelligence and a natural inclination for intrigue. She must be the last werewolf; and the villagers only wondered that they had not seen it before. Had her position in society blinded them so much to her faults?

Not any more. Now, the verdict was ruthless: guilty! And they led Emma to the middle of the village, were they had set up the guillotine.

-I'm going to be _beheaded_? she asked, indignantly.

-Oh, I'm sorry. Are you worried that your beautiful body will miss your beautiful head?

-If you had even read my book, you would know I have no personal vanity, appearance-wise. But all the same, beheaded? Nobody else was! Why me?

-Don't worry too much about it. In a little while, you'll wish you didn't have a head.

-Huh?

-We are very angry with you, because you have been fooling us for so long. Therefore, we have decided to up your punishment.

Emma looked at them defiantly.

-What horrible tortures have you devised? They will not break me. I am Emma Woodhouse, the proud descendant of a noble line. Unleash your worst terrors! I am not afraid.

-Right… you carry the noble line thing very well, but I think you'll sing a different tune when you see what's in store for you.

-I shall face it, I say! What is it? The torture rack? The wheel? Some other medieval device, used for interrogations and fulfillment of sadistic urges? Bring it forth, whatever it is!

-Look at the door.

Emma did so.

An old lady was standing there.

Emma turned deadly white. Her reaction to the announcement of her sentence was nothing, compared to her expression now.

- Miss Bates is our special guest this afternoon. She left Highbury in a great hurry. She will lead you to the guillotine; she will be with you in your last moments; _and she_ _will be talking incessantly the whole time._

- Dear Miss Woodhouse! Miss Bates exclaimed. I'm so glad to see you. These good people told me you were having a party. I do love parties. Of course, you, my dear Miss Woodhouse, used to host the most enjoyable parties at Hartfield. And how kind you always were. Mr. Woodhouse, too. How does he do? Such a very good man, and the nicest, friendliest neighbor. He always speaks so highly of my dear Jane.

-Oh, good God… Emma said.

- Jane is very well, thank you. She only had a little cold last week, but now it has almost passed. We were so worried, her grandmother and I. Jane has such a delicate constitution, you see. And have I mentioned how accomplished she is? I believe I have mentioned it nine times today. Do let me mention it a tenth. I believe you missed the pleasure of hearing the other nine.

- Somebody kill me, said Emma.

- If you insist. Miss Bates, will you put that handkerchief around Miss Woodhouse's eyes? Very nice. Now, lead her down this corridor, that's right. Very good job, ma'am! Don't be afraid, you are doing admirably.

- Dear me! What a very strange way of entertainment. Are you going to play Blindman's Buff, Miss Woodhouse? How very amusing people your friends are, and what a pleasant time you must have together! I am only sorry that Jane isn't here. She would enjoy it so much. Sometimes I'm worried about her, Miss Woodhouse. She doesn't talk, she doesn't eat. It's so good for her to enjoy the company of other people her age, like you my dear Miss Woodhouse. But sometimes she won't go out for ten days in a row. I'm afraid something is not quite well. What would you advise me to do, Miss Woodhouse?

- You must, um… Emma was frantically trying to keep her balance as she was walking blindfolded with her hands full. You must, er, do the right thing.

- My dear Miss Woodhouse, how clever you are! exclaimed Miss Bates. But so it always is. You always give the best advice, host the best parties, dress in the best style, sing charmingly, dance perfectly, embroider with the utmost accuracy and taste, and have an extensive knowledge of things, the equal of which I have never seen. I can only compare you to my dear Jane. Oh, how kind you have always been to us- I will never forget your compliment about Jane's calligraphy. It gave me such exquisite joy in my old age.

- My pleasure, said Emma.

- Oh, look! We have reached this strange machine! Now what must we do? Oh, look, there is a place for your neck there! Do put it in. There must be some reason it's made like that. I am sure the good people who made this machine would never add unnecessary constructions. It's so very clever of people to always come up with inventions, don't you agree, Miss Woodhouse? I a so pleased with the general process of technology in our century. Dear me, why is that blade hanging over there? Oh, well. Dear Miss Woodhouse, have I told you what happened to me the other day? The oddest thing. I woke up in the morning and looked at my wall. There were three flies there. Well, I went out for some business and when I returned, there were only two flies! Now, isn't that the most peculiar thing? Why would the other fly leave such a nice wall? Of course, I am not suggesting there are no other nice walls in Highbury, and perhaps that accounts for it. In fact, our neighborhood is full of pretty houses with nice walls, and the friendliest people live there…

- Why won't anybody kill me? cried Emma desperately.

- As you wish, replied the villagers. Emma Woodhouse, you have been accused of massive murders, manipulative scheming, deception, and matchmaking. We hereby pronounce you guilty and condemn you to death. Any last words?

- I'm totally innocent. You people are nuts.

- That doesn't help. Anything else?

- Do I have to be beheaded? I mean, alright, lynch me, but why do I have to lose my head?

- You wanna keep your head, do you?

- Yes!

- If we let you keep it, do you promise to start using it?

It only took one moment for Emma to understand the sarcasm; but that moment was fatal; the villagers didn't give her any more time. As she opened her mouth to speak, the blade came down with great force. Miss Bates shrieked and fainted. The others, who had spontaneously closed their eyes at the critical moment, now opened them again.

The guillotine was empty! The villagers were horrified. Had Emma escaped? They looked around frantically. Suddenly, one of them cried out, pointing towards the sky.

-Look!

Emma was there. Two large, white wings had emerged from her back. The blindfold was always on her eyes, and she was still holding the bow and the arrows. Putting an arrow into the bow, she cast a shot at a random direction. Far away, someone sighed; it was the unmistakable sigh of a lover. Emma smirked, and flew away. She had soon disappeared in the horizon, and nothing more could now be seen, except the golden hues of the sky and the majestic fall of the setting sun.

**Emma was lynched!**

**Emma was the Cupid! **

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Oh, well.**

**The werewolves have practically won now, I'm afraid. There will be a next chapter, of course.**

**Someone guessed that Elizabeth is the last werewolf, and the answer is... *drum roll* ... maybe. :-p**


	9. Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?

**A/N: Finally, the moment for the grand reveal has come. Bring the fireworks! Open the champagne! Tell the newspapers!**

… **Please don't throw tomatoes at me.**

* * *

><p>Mr. Darcy's pale body was found in front of the church the next morning. It was left there as a final sacrifice. His mouth was slightly open, as if in enquiry. His eyes, glass-like, would look no more. His body was distorted in an unnatural angle.<p>

**Mr. Darcy was night-killed.**

**Mr. Darcy was a Villager.**

It was an unbearable sight. The two ladies watched for some minutes in silence.

Then, they looked at each other.

The sun was shining upon Catherine and Elizabeth. A grasshopper jumped on a nearby leaf. The birds were singing as melodically as ever.

Since there were only two of them, there could be no lynching. They would skip immediately to the next night-phase. And they both knew it.

Finally, one of them spoke.

-You? Elizabeth whispered.

-Me, Catherine replied.

-You were not an innocent townsperson? Elizabeth asked.

-Nah, Catherine said.

-But you _look_ like an innocent townsperson! Elizabeth declared, very indignantly.

-Exactly, Catherine confirmed. Kekekekekekekekeke.

And then the light vanished, and the sky was full of clouds. The masks had fallen. Catherine left out a triumphant howl, and-

_At this point, a very violent scene takes place. The author does not approve of it at all. Suffice it to say that it was a dark and stormy night._

**The game was finished.**

**The werewolves won.**


	10. Jane Austen sets things straight

**A/N: This chapter is written from my POV.**

* * *

><p>After I finished the chapter where the werewolves won (a resolution most of the players disagreed with) I went out for a walk. The night had stopped being stormy, because it only needed to be stormy for plot purposes. As I was walking, I saw at some distance a silver shadow. Intrigued, I went closer and observed that the shadow was formed like a woman. The woman had curls, beautifully shaped eyes and somewhat chubby cheeks, and she was wearing a frock and a bonnet. I gaped with a sudden realization, and instinctively turned around. But it was too late. She did a kind of sliding movement through the air, and she was much faster than me. She was after me, and she didn't look pleased at all. Once she reached me, she drew breath (or something like that) and then she went off.<p>

-Young lady- do you care to explain WHAT ON EARTH WERE YOU THINKING?

-I… I just…

-CATHERINE? I mean, CATHERINE?

-Oh, come on. Their faces when they realized it was her all along! I mean, don't you think it was just a little bit funny?

The lady snorted; but I could tell that something being a little bit funny held considerable merit with her. Encouraged, I proceeded:

-I know that Catherine is incapable of deceiving in real life; but I thought it wouldn't be much of a stretch if she was able to bluff at games. I'm a horrible liar in real life myself, but I can bluff at games. And she has nine siblings, so she must be good at games, right?

The lady muttered something about "lame loopholes" and "goddamn fanfic writers".

-My dear Miss Austen-

-Don't my-dear-Miss-Austen me. You have yet to explain your abominable treatment of my dearest Lizzy!

-Lizzy?

-Don't give me that nonsense. You blinded her, you diminished her powers of logic, you made her insane! You had her determinedly prejudiced against Darcy's better nature for the greater part of your story!

-Well, look who's talking. _You _had her determinedly prejudiced against Darcy's better nature for the greater part of _your_ story!

-That is quite different. I created her.

-Well, I'm following in your footsteps, then.

-Don't take that tone with me, you cheeky little…

-My dear Miss Austen you quite misunderstand me. I assure you that my intentions were the best, and-

-Oh, _really_. Then let me give you a piece of information, Miss Best-Intentions. Your atrocious fanfic disturbed my eternal sleep. What do you say to that? That's right. There I was in my tomb, enjoying eternity…

-Sounds a blast.

-When suddenly, out of nowhere, I start itching. And then, before I know it, I'm twisting and turning and twisting and turning- _it's not funny_. It happens once in a while and you know what it means? It only means one thing. Fanfiction!

I sighed.

- So I come back from the dead, and I find this.

- I'm… sorry?

- You should be. You're the only one responsible.

- Look, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to bother you, honestly. What can I do?

- Well, the least you can do is finish that thing. I mean, you should never have started it, obviously. You should have taken the hint when I refused to narrate.

Here she mumbled something about "presumptuous upstarts".

-But since you _did _start it, you might as well finish it properly. It's the only way I can get back to my eternal rest. Incomplete fanfiction never lets me sleep.

-But I have finished it! I have revealed the werewolves. What else am I supposed to do?

She gave me a look that very plainly communicated to me how stupid I was. Then she informed me that I had finished nothing.

-You see, your readers still don't know what was going on during the night phases, she said. Moreover, you have not officially revealed Elizabeth's role. And, if you will allow me a piece of advice- it would be interesting if there were glimpses at the characters' futures. I always do that. But, on the other hand, don't overdo it.

I stopped taking notes.

- Thank you, Miss Austen, I said.

- You're welcome. It was a pleasure to meet you.

- Likewise, and may I say how much I admire your work.

- Why thank you. It's always a pleasure and an honor to inspire young minds. Oh, and one last thing…

- Yes?

- Write that confounded thing, _or I will haunt your house_.

With that, she vanished into the night. One moment she was there, her silver form standing brightly in front of me on the air; the other, she had disappeared, like she never was. I gaped for some moments, and then turned around and went home.

I'm sure she was joking about haunting my house, though. She would never do that. She was rather famous for her sense of humor when she was alive. She would never do such a thing as haunt someone's house. I mean, I'll write the remaining chapters, really I will. But there's obviously no need to hurry.

… Yeah.


	11. Conclusion

**Silliest chapter ever.**

**Also, sorry for the hiatus. Blame late college exams and writer's block. Don't blame the author. Never blame the author. :-p**

* * *

><p>-So, Miss Bennet, said Mr. Darcy. You were the Madman, right?<p>

-Your insinuation is absurd, ridiculous and overreaching, said Lizzy.

She didn't answer the question, though. Let alone the fact that she had blushed…

-So… were you? asked Catherine.

-I… really, you're the last person who has the right to ask. You only won because the author overstretched your canon personality…

-Did not!

-Did.

-Did not!

-Did.

-You only say that because you didn't find me out. You're just jealous!

-Am not!

-Are!

-Am not!

-Are!

-Cheater!

-Loser!

-How long do you think they'll keep it going? muttered Mr. Darcy to Mr. Tilney.

-Mine has nine siblings, Mr. Tilney replied. And yours?

-Four.

-Good God. We're going to stay here forever.

Finally, the two ladies agreed on a rematch. Fortunately for everyone, Lizzy was on the winning team, so she allowed Catherine's victory to be valid, and the ladies became good friends.

Unfortunately, Lizzy's opinion on Mr. Darcy did not improve significantly. This led to a series of misunderstandings which are described in a book called _Pride and_ _Prejudice_.

Mr. Knightley called Emma on her new matchmaking attempt.

-Bertram and Miss Price? he said. Really?

-You'll see, replied Emma confidently.

-I'll wait, but I won't see, said Mr. Knightley. No way. You are wrong, as usual.

But Fanny and Edmund eventually got married, and all the Mafia players were invited to the wedding. However, Mr. Knightley seemed to have forgotten his previous conversation with Emma.

-What have you got to say now, Mr. Knightley? she asked triumphantly, as they were walking out of the church.

-Humph, he said. You made a lucky guess, Emma, he condescended to answer, and that's all that can be said for you.

In the end, all the players were happily married between them. However, the bonds of friendship they had formed persisted, and they all continued to visit each others' houses and play Mafia ever after.

**The Night Phases**

**Or**

**What the heck everybody was doing while the villagers were sleeping, just in case anyone still cares**

*cough cough*

Elizabeth was, in fact, the Madman. Never mind what she says. She always got guilty results, as explained in the prologue.

Now let's see what everybody did…

Day 1: Edward gets randomly lynched.

Night 1: Mr. Knightley (the Seer) checks Elinor. She is a Villager.

Unfortunately, the werewolves night-kill Elinor (no particular reason, she just looks smart and they have to start somewhere).

Anne, the Guardian, protects Frederick Wentworth, I wonder why.

Lizzy, the Madman, checks Darcy. He appears as a werewolf, but really is a Villager.

Day 2: Elinor is found dead. Frederick is lynched.

Lizzy asks "how can you be sure the Seer is a he?" and then looks embarrassed. This leads most people to suspect she is the Seer.

Henry Tilney draws attention to himself by his gambits.

Night 2: Mr. Knightley checks Henry. He is werewolf.

Lizzy also checks Henry. As she always gets guilty results, he appears werewolf. She may be mad, but in this case she is also accidentally correct.

The werewolves target Lizzy, because they suspect she is the Seer.

Anne protects Lizzy for the same reason. Thus, no night-kill.

Day 3: Everyone raves about how _smart_ the Guardian is and how _wonderful_ it is that noone was killed. Anne involuntarily smiles, thus betraying herself.

Emma notices Henry's suspicious behavior. Mr. Knightley subtly encourages her suspicion. Elizabeth has no problem with it.

Catherine only gives up when the majority has already voted for Henry. Fanny defends him because she really is afraid of mislynching.

Henry is revealed to be a werewolf. Elizabeth becomes certain she is the Seer. Because really, the Madman accidentally finding an actual werewolf on the second night? What are the chances? Pfft, negligible. Right? Right?

Night 3: Anne protects Lizzy again.

Unfortunately, Catherine kills Anne.

Mr. Knightley checks Mr. Darcy. He is a Villager.

Lizzy refuses to use her investigating option. She thinks she has already found the second werewolf- Darcy- so what's the point?

(Note to self: NEVER do that in an actual game. In Lizzy's case, it is understandable because she is already prejudiced against Darcy- after all, he did call her tolerable.)

Day 4: Emma strongly accuses Fanny. Most players agree. Darcy comments that they had given Fanny a break until then just because she _looked _innocent (which is correct, and it's a pity he didn't think to apply it to Catherine as well).

Eliazbeth defends Fanny and insists it was Mr. Darcy. Mr. Knightley decidedly protests Darcy's innocence. When Catherine asks him how he can be sure, he looks embarrassed. Catherine suspects he is the Seer after all.

Edmund, who is Fanny's lover, defends her.

However, Fanny is lynched and Edmund dies of a broken heart.

Night 4: Mr. Knightley checks Catherine.

Too late. Caterine kills him.

Elizabeth still refuses to use her investigating option.

Day 5: Mr. Kinightley's role is revealed upon death. He was the Seer.

Elizabeth is shocked. She realizes that a) she is not the Seer and b) Darcy must be innocent, since the real Seer said so.

Meanwhile, Catherine "innocently" asks Mr. Darcy what he was telling Elizabeth. Of course, he starts stammering, Emma gets suspicious, Elizabeth gets involved and everyone except Caterine starts fighting. The end result is that Emma gets lynched.

Night 5: Catherine has now accomplished her goals. She likes Lizzy, so she decides to save her for last. (There is something seriously wrong with that sentence.) Mr. Darcy gets night-killed.

Day 6: Dang.

Night 6: The final triumph of evil over good. Er, I mean…

**The End**


End file.
